Heart of Oak
by Lord Sopping
Summary: Captain Picard takes part in an archelogical expedition in the Gamma Quadrant that runs afoul of an alien race who see the Federation people as descecrators of their ancesteral homeworld.


**Heart of Oak**

**By**

Donald E. Brynelsen

"Are you sure you have everything Jean Luc?" Beverly Crusher fussed over the assortment of cases and duffle bags that littered the floor of the Captain's quarters aboard the _Enterprise-E._ "I doubt there will be a supply outpost where you're going."

"I doubt there will much of anything," Picard smiled in return. "From preliminary reports Uritica III managed to escape the notice of the rest of the quadrant for centuries."

"Well it is, to quote an ancestor of mine, '_Out where the Lord lost his sandals.'" _Beverly smiled. Picard laughed at the comment, and then returned to his packing.

The intercom chirped for attention, and soon after the voice of Commander Madden, the Enterprise's new first officer came from the speakers. "Captain, the _Longworth _has dropped from warp and will be entering orbit in ten minutes. Captain Bryson has forwarded a request that you and the other scientists come aboard by shuttle if possible, so he may devote his transporters to the bringing aboard of supplies and equipment from the surface."

"Tell him that will be satisfactory Number One."

"Aye Sir, Bridge out."

"Bryson, wasn't he in command of the _Chadwick?"_ Beverly asked.

"Yes, and he was exonerated of all blame in her loss." Picard replied as he hoisted the strap of a duffle bag onto his shoulder, "However, he had made enemies at command over his career due to some of his Kirk like actions, and they saw to it he never commanded a front line ship again."

"I hear he commanded whatever Starfleet would give him, take the missions no one else wanted."

"True enough, he did whatever was required in order to stay in command of a ship until he could be given a chance to redeem himself. The Borg gave him that chance. Bryson and his crew had just finished refurbishing the _Longworth_ after finding her mothballed in a backwater storage depot when the news of the approaching Borg cube reached them. They raced to Wolf 359 and joined up with the armada and distinguished themselves with an amazing series of hit and fade attacks, and when the tide turned, they stayed with several other ships to fight a rear guard action so the survivors of the fleet could escape."

"And the _Longworth_ was they only ship of that action to survive." Beverly said softly, "I read the reports. Badly damaged, life support on the verge of failing, they limped into Starbase 75 three days later packed with the survivors they'd beamed off the other ships."

"Yes, Captain Bryson had at last atoned for the lives of those lost aboard the _Chadwick_ by saving others. He was a hero, and command was prepared to give him any ship or assignment he desired. He told them that he wanted to remain in command of the _Longworth_, that she was a '_Right stout little brig'_ as he put it."

"Wasn't the _Longworth_ one of the ships that took part in the rescue operation after the _Enterprise D _crashed?" Beverly asked.

"Yes, I believe it was," Picard nodded, "They ferried out the preliminary technical teams assigned to see if anything could be salvaged."

"Captain Bryson had an ancestor in the British Navy during Earth's early nineteenth century," Beverly mused as she walked over to look out the viewports, "You think he and yours crossed swords at Trafalgar?"

"It's possible," Picard smiled wistfully. "Perhaps he was the one who gave my ancestor his scar."

"_Enterprise Shuttle, you are cleared for touch down in bay one. Switch to automated landing frequency and enjoy the ride." _

"Acknowledged _Longworth_, switching over now." The pert ensign manning the helm made the required change to her board and then folded her hands in her lap as the computer took over. Picard looked out over her shoulder at the approaching form of the _Longworth _as the shuttle aligned itself with the pulsing landing beacons visible through the open bay doors. The ship was an old Miranda class cruiser, a relic from the days of James Kirk, yet she looked as if she had just cleared her assembly dock with her gleaming pearl white finish and crisp markings. Picard gazed appreciatively at her underslung warp nacelles, the graceful curving "roll bar" that spanned the pylons, and was achingly reminded of his beloved _Stargazer. _ Bryson had been offered command of far newer ships after his heroism at Wolf 359, yet he had told the Admirals that he could conceive of being the master of no other vessel then the one that had seen him and his crew through their moment of fire, just as Picard had once believed he could love no other ship then the _Stargazer._

There was a brief sparkle of energy as the shuttle passed through the force field maintaining the bay's atmosphere while the doors were open, then the craft pirouetted and settled itself to the deck in a slot next to two shuttles from the base on the planet they were currently orbiting. The rear hatch opened and two crewmen in crisp blue duty coveralls entered and gathered up Picard's luggage, which they transferred to a waiting anti-grav trolley waiting outside. As Picard descended the ramp as his things were whisked off, a tall blonde haired woman stepped forward. The rank braid on the cuffs of her coveralls marked her as a full Commander and the way she filled them out caused primal stirrings in him.

"Captain Picard?" she said as she extended her hand. "Welcome aboard the _Longworth_. I'm Abrigail Tamerin, the ship's first officer. Captain Bryson sends his regrets at not greeting you personally, but he was called away to attend to an environmental situation down in the galley."

"Is it serious?" Picard asked.

"Not really, it seems a container of Klingon hot sauce got spilled and the fumes given off as it began to eat through the deck plating made several crewmembers ill."

Another shuttle entered the bay, a large cargo type resembling a runabout, and settled to the deck. The cargo ramp dropped and three crewmen entered to inspect the large six-wheeled survey vehicle contained within. Minutes later a crewwoman approached Commander Tamerin with a data pad for her approval. Tamerin made a quick inspection affixed her signature, the woman rushed off, and moments later the cargo shuttle dropped out of sight on the deck elevator to be stowed in the hanger below. As yet another shuttle arrived, Picard had to marvel at the efficiency of the people working in the bay as they went about their tasks, and how everything was in its proper place and order. "_Everything shipshape and Bristol fashion." _ He thought to himself.

"Captain, if you're ready, I'll show you to your quarters." Commander Tamerin said politely as she indicated the doors leading into the rest of the ship. Above them was emblazoned: _USS LONGWORTH NCC-1884_ _WELCOMES YOU. _And below in smaller script: _Our Record is our Pride._

As the pair moved down the corridor to the turbo lifts, Picard noted other crewmembers going about performing maintenance tasks or enroute to various shipboard departments. Out of the bustling throng there appeared a familiar face.

"Captain Scott! How nice to see you again." Picard smiled extending his hand as the legendary engineer of the original _Enterprise _approached.

"Likewise Sir," Scott beamed taking the proffered hand and grasping it firmly.

"Captain Scott signed aboard for our voyage to oversee Engineering." Commander Tamerin commented.

"That I did," Scott nodded, "Someone has to teach these young whelps the proper way to run an engine room."

"Not to mention you're the most familiar with some of these old systems!" Tamerin laughed.

"Aye, aye." Scott chuckled. He suddenly remembered something and reached into the satchel at his side. He extracted a data pad and handed it to the Commander. "I'm glad I ran into you. I need your authorization on this requisition."

Tamerin ran through the lists on the pad. It seemed a normal spare parts manifest and she was about to sign off on it when one item caught her eye. "Scotty," she said looking up, "Andorian tequila?"

"Oh it's not for me Lass," Scott said quickly, "Some of the field coils in the dilithium matrix are nearly as old as I am and replacements are a tad hard to come by these days. Well, there's this fellow on Deep Space Nine who said he has a set and he's particular to the stuff so.."

"I understand Scotty." Tamerin smiled as she signed the form.

"Thank ye Lass." Scott took the pad and hurried past.

Picard glanced up at where a maintenance crew was doing work on the ceiling of the corridor. "Are those Holo-emitters?" he asked.

"Yes, the _Longworth_ served for a time as a training vessel and was fitted with them on all her decks so they could run combat simulations, and emergency drills. They proved useful to us on more then one occasion, including at Wolf 359 when we were able to disorient some Borg scouting drones long enough to neutralize them." Tamerin smiled shyly. "That's also where I picked up my nickname."

"Buffy?" Picard said recalling what he'd read in the dossier on the _Longworth _and her crew aboard the _Enterprise._

"Yes, Buffy the Borg Slayer. I took out one of the drones by impaling it with a shard of durasteel through the chest." Her comm. Badge chirped for attention and she touched it. "Tamerin here."

"_Commander, you're needed in transporter room three, a couple of our guests are having a dispute over whose equipment should take precedence in being brought aboard_."

"I'm on my way." Tamerin sighed. She gestured to a nearby crewwoman and instructed her to escort Picard to the VIP quarters. "I'll see you tonight at the welcoming reception Captain," she said in parting and then she was gone.

By eighteen hundred hours the _Longworth _had taken aboard all her supplies and personnel and was enroute to Deep Space Nine to collect the last of the scientific party. As he smoothed down his dress uniform jacket for perhaps the twentieth time, Picard stepped off the turbolift and walked the short distance to the Officers dining room. Two security people flanked the doors and they snapped to attention at his approach before one reached over to activate the door to give him admittance. Inside candles set on the long table and the sideboards illuminated the room in a soft glow that reflected off the rich wood paneling. Captain Bryson sat at the head of the table in a dress uniform of a deep blue tailcoat with gold braid at the cuffs and embroidery on the high collar. This was worn over an ivory colored tunic shirt with a white silk neck cloth, and white trousers. Bryson was about the same age as Will Riker, indeed the two had been classmates at the Academy, and like Riker he sported a short beard. With his uniform, and framed as he was by the high windows looking out on space, Picard could easily imagine Bryson at home in the great cabin of one of Earth's ancient sailing vessels. Flanking the Captain was his first officer and her identical twin, both in uniforms similar to his, further down sat Scotty, in kilt and tartan sash, and across from him was Professor Phelk, the noted Denobulon historian. Next to Phelk was Doctor Morris from the Cambridge Institute of Stellar Antiquities, and across from him was Doctor Dekirin from the Bajoran Academy of Sciences. There were four others whom Picard did not know, an Andorian, two humans, and what appeared to be a distant cousin to the Cardassians, but they seemed to know him and his own admitted small accomplishments in the field of archeology as they rose and extended their hands as he was seated, introduced themselves as Doctor Shrean of the Andorian Science Directorate, Professor Stoner and his assistant Marta from the Alpha Centauri museum of Galactic Natural History, and Doctor D'Tark of the Nelvarian Cultural Outreach Office.

As a steward filled Picard's glass with wine, Captain Bryson rose from his seat followed by the others. "My friends, since as it turns out our Ship's Surgeon Dr. Karloff will be unable to join us this evening, I'd like to start the festivities with a toast. To the success of our voyage and to that of your expedition, May it greaten the knowledge of all races in the Federation,"

"To Success." The group responded in unison as they drank.

"To our host Captain Bryson," Phelk offered raising his glass, "The lion of Wolf 359, and to his noble ship, the _Longworth_."

"To the _Longworth." _The group responded.

"To husbands, wives, and sweethearts," Bryson offered, and then added, "May they never meet." With a mutual round of laughter the group sat down once more and the stewards began setting out the first course of their meal.

"Captain, this truly is a most excellent wine." Phelk commented as he looked at his glass.

"Thank you," Bryson smiled, "But the credit should rightfully go to Captain Picard, it was produced by his family's vineyards."

"If I might ask the year Captain?" Picard asked after savoring a sip. It had a sweet and mellow taste, the kind that made Robert so proud. Picard felt a twinge of sorrow as he thought of his dead brother, and his nephew, and how much he still missed them.

"Nineteen hundred." Bryson replied, "An ancestor of mine and his bride brought home several cases from their honeymoon trip in nineteen hundred and three and stored them in the caves under their home in Maine. Earth's last global war in the mid twenty-first century destroyed the house and sealed the caves until I discovered them ten years ago while researching my family history. There was a case and a half of the vintage nineteen hundred that had survived all these years."

"And how many bottles are left?"

"Seven."

"I'm, honored Sir." Picard said softly.

"It was my pleasure Captain." Bryson smiled, "I've also taken the liberty of having a bottle sent to your quarters to take home at the conclusion of our voyage." Picard could do nothing but nod his thanks.

"Captain," Doctor Morris spoke up, "I could not help but notice that you and your officers are not wearing the standard Starfleet issue uniforms."

"That's because the _Longworth_ is no longer an official member of the fleet, but rather a detached auxiliary. That allows us a wider latitude in choice of missions, such as your expedition."

"Subject to the requirements of the service of course." Commander Tamerin chimed in.

"Quite right. If the need arose, we could be called back to active status at any time."

"How long will our voyage take Captain?" Marta asked.

"Once we pass through the wormhole at DS9 and reach the Gamma quadrant, it will be about another week, maybe less at Warp five. During that time you're welcome to utilize all the _Longworth's_ recreational facilities. We have two holodecks with all the latest programs, including two new Dixon Hill scenarios you might be interested in Captain; _Murder can be Deadly_, and_ the Affair of the Chinese Monkey Box. _There is the computer library of course, and the forward lounge."

The doors opened and a lovely woman with creamy white skin, and rich brown hair swept up in a style that like her floor length gown harkened back to an earlier era entered accompanied by the gentle hiss of silken petticoats. Picard and the other men rose, and Bryson came around the table to escort her to an open seat. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said as she was seated, "But my systems diagnostic took longer then expected."

"It's quite alright." Bryson smiled as he resumed his own seat. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Alice, whom many of you may have already met via our computer network."

"Ah yes, the charming young women who answered my enquiries when I came aboard," Phelk smiled. He reached for the wine bottle, "Might I pour you a glass of this excellent vintage?"

"Thank you, but no Doctor,' Alice smiled, "You see, I don't require nourishment like organic entities such as yourself."

"Alice is an Autonomous Holographic Entity." Bryson explained, "Totally self aware, much like the Professor Moriarty and Countess Regina entities your Mr. Barclay created Captain Picard. She's able to roam the ship at will thanks to the Holo-emitters on all the decks, and I daresay she'd have given your Mister Data a run for his money in the computational department as well. Many of the crew consider her the embodiment of the ship's spirit and soul, and she's been invaluable aid to me as well." In an aside Bryson added, "I detest holding conversations with disembodied voices coming from equipment!"

"When did you come to be?" Marta asked.

"During our initial refit," Alice replied, "The Bynars were upgrading our main computer using some new Bio technology they'd developed. Starfleet choose our ship as the test bed, or guinea pig as Nate would put it, and they decided to create a holographic persona for the crew to interact with. Knowing that humans like to name their ships after great people and moments in their history, they searched the databases for a correlation to the ship's name and came up with the daughter of one of Earth's political leaders in the early twentieth century."

"I actually got to meet her," Bryson commented as he refilled his glass, "Spoke to her as well."

"You did? How?" Morris asked.

" While reviewing the sensor logs of both the_ Enterprise-E's _trip back in time to stop the Borg from interfering with First Contact, and Captain Archer's logs concerning the wrecked Borg ship found in the artic, the boys in Temporal Affairs discovered that a part of that same ship had come away and been flung back even farther in time to the early twentieth century. I pulled in some favors and got the _Longworth _the assignment to go back and investigate. Fortunately it turned out that the thing had been obliterated on impact when it came down in Siberia, scaring the hell out of some locals, but they all thought it was a meteor, so there was no contamination of the timeline. Before we returned to this century, I decided to take the opportunity to observe my ancestors, and see if they were indeed like the family histories reported. What I didn't count on was nearly being killed by the wife of my ancestor piloting an ancient automobile and being invited to dinner as way of apology. Alice's namesake was there and during the meal she touched my arm, looked into my eyes and asked if she could trouble me for the salt."

"You were lucky you only bruised the Temporal Prime Directive Nate," Alice replied smiling, "As opposed to bending or snapping it altogether as you've done with so many other rules."

Bryson cleared his throat, "Yes well, as you can see Ladies and gentlemen, besides her other talents, Alice also acts in the capacity of my conscience." There was a round of laughter at this, then Alice spoke up.

"Captain Picard, I understand you play the flute?" When Picard nodded, she continued, "Then perhaps you might join us one evening ? Nate is quite accomplished on the violin, and I play the cello, and I'm sure we have something you'd be familiar with."

Picard thought of that evening as he sat inside a shelter and catalogued the boxes of artifacts collected over the past several days. After a pleasant and uneventful voyage the _Longworth _had arrived and deposited the scientific team and their equipment on the surface near the remnants of a major metropolitan center before beginning orbital scans of the planet to find other locations of interest. Currently the ship was on the opposite side of Uritica III holding station above a mammoth blast crater they'd found, taking readings of residual radiation from whatever had formed it in the distant past.

Picard picked up the skull sitting on the table before him and ran his tricorder over it. One of many found in the rubble of collapsed buildings, or the many mass gravesites the team had discovered, the skull indicated the Uriticans to have been of reptilian or perhaps saurian origin. A complete skeleton recovered indicated the race towered over the average human by at least three feet, and had claw like appendages on their hands and feet. "Who were you my friend?" Picard whispered as he stared into the skulls empty eye sockets, "And what happened to you and your people?"

The door behind Picard hissed open and Professor Stoner entered tricorder in hand. "Captain Picard!" He said excitedly, "This is incredible! I've just received a data link from the _Longworth_, while conducting a mapping sweep; they discovered a small continent up near the planet's northern pole with signs of life."

"You mean someone survived the calamity that claimed the rest of the inhabitants, and their descendents are living on this island?" Picard asked as he took the tricorder.

"Unfortunately no," Stoner said softly, "The _Longworth's_ scans only uncovered animal and plant life, but such life! Creatures and birds that defy description, flowers and trees like never seen before."

Picard scanned the data on the device; it was indeed impressive. Here were species listed that would amaze even the most experienced botanists and zoologists back on Earth. One in particular caught his attention, a large avian standing about four and a half feet in height with rainbow hued plumage.

"According to the initial surveys they have underdeveloped wings, and are incapable of flight." Stoner commented looking over Picard's shoulder, "I'd love to secure one for study. I forwarded a request for a shuttle to Captain Bryson when I received this data; he hasn't responded yet; in fact the transmission link was cut off abruptly." Stoner sat on the corner of the table, "Some technical problem with the relay satellite I would imagine." He got up, went to the cooler sitting in a corner of the room and got himself a cold beverage before returning. "Speaking of interesting life forms, I have a brother whose field is holographics, and would love to meet the charming 'Miss Alice'. If Captain Bryson hadn't informed us of the fact, I would have thought she was a living, flesh and blood woman instead of a collection of animated photons."

"Indeed," Picard nodded in agreement, "She is quite an achievement, far in advance of the EMH's they have in the sickbays aboard our front line ships, even the one that was aboard _Voyager_ and evolved on his own."

From outside there came a muffled rumbling, sending minor tremors through the flooring of the shelter that were felt by both men. A puzzled look on his face, Stoner went to a console and accessed the current meteorological data. "Strange," he mused, "The satellite shows clear skies for the next several hours, but that sounded like an approaching storm."

Picard was about to add his agreement when there came another rumble, closer this time, accompanied by a high pitched whine. His blood turning cold, he whispered, "That's no storm, it's weapons fire, we're under attack!"

Stoner was incredulous. "Attack, by who? We're light years from the Dominion, Cardassians, and whoever else might wish us harm."

"Nonetheless we have to get out of here, now!" Picard seized Stoner by the arm and dragged him to the door, which hissed open at their approach. Outside was a vision from Hell as members of the scientific party were racing about in mass panic while overhead a multitude of unknown fighter craft were shrieking down firing red beams that sent two of the buildings nearby erupting in flowers of flame. Picard grabbed Stoner and pushed him to the ground as yet another fighter vectored in on a strafing run that sent dirt kicking up all around them before obliterating the building they'd just vacated.

The survey vehicle Picard had seen delivered to the _Longworth_ came racing across the flats towards the encampment. Someone in the top hatch was firing away at the two pursuing alien craft with a ring mounted heavy phaser rifle, but in vain. The two predators pounced on their prey and sent it tumbling end for end as it erupted in flame, coming to rest just a few yards from Picard who watched in horror as a hatch popped open and two shrieking masses of fire that had just moments before been living beings tumbled out. Just as he turned his eyes away from the sight, Picard felt the familiar tingling that indicated the start of a transport..

He rematerialized to the ear splitting shriek of an alert klaxon and the chaos of the _Longworth's _transporter room as a dozen or more members of the scientific party, many of them dirty with assorted wounds, clamored about a single harried Ensign who was trying to take their names. She stiffened to attention upon sight of Picard. "Sir, the Captain will be pleased we were able to retrieve you. He requests your presence on the bridge."

"What is happening here?" Picard asked, "Who is attacking us?"

"Unknown Sir. They came out of nowhere while we were conducting scans of the surface and opened fire before we could raise shields or hail them. They took out the relay station, no doubt to keep us from warning you or calling for help. The Captain managed to get us away long enough to come around and attempt the rescue of yourself and the others, but he's sure our attackers won't be giving up so easy and will be coming after us." A satisfied smile crossed her features. "But we'll be ready for them this time and will serve them out for what they've done. Now if you'll excuse me Sir?"

Dodging crewmen rushing to their action stations, Picard made his way to the nearest turbolift and jumped in. It whisked him upwards to the _Longworth's _command center, which was alive with damage and status reports coming in from all over the ship. A pall of smoke that hadn't been cleared by the ventilators yet hung in the air and several consoles were black with fire damage as technicians worked to bring them back on line.

"Pardon us Sir." Said a petite Andorian female in the uniform of a Medic as she and two others guided a grav stretcher holding Commander Tamerin's sister into the lift. The Commander herself was standing with her Captain by his command chair. Both officers uniforms were dirty and unkempt, their faces streaked with soot, testament to what must have occurred here when they were attacked by their unknown enemy.

"The power outlay of their weapons is like nothing I've seen Nate," Tamerin was commenting as Picard drew near.

"I know," Bryson agreed as he rubbed his beard, "Twenty pounders to our long nines, we'll have to find some way to get in closer to poke their eye if they come after us." He turned and touched a stud on his chair. "Scotty, how are repairs progressing?"

"_We should have shields back to full power in another twenty minutes," _came the voice of the legendary engineer, _"We're still trying to lock down the plasma leak in the port nacelle, I could give ye a short burst of warp if need be, but I dinna think we should plan on any extended runs until I can get a full crew in to check the nacelle out front to back."_

"How are our weapons?"

_"We'll have full phasers back presently, torpedoes in another ten minutes."_

"Good Scotty, we'll need them spitting if our friends out there show up again. Bridge out."

"Can I be of assistance Captain?" Picard asked.

Bryson turned. "We could use a set of able hands at weapons Sir. Lieutenant Tamerin was caught off guard like the rest of us and thrown against a railing."

"Have you any idea who attacked you?" Picard asked as he sat down at the station and familiarized himself with its layout, Bryson at his shoulder.

"None," the younger Captain responded, "As soon as we detected them we ran up the colors and made hails. They responded by opening up on us with a full broadside, then they cut across our tail and damn near took out our rudder. Luckily our stern chasers were able to keep them at bay long enough to get away and over to this side to effect the rescue of you and your companions." Bryson looked up at his First Officer who was at Tactical. She knew his question before he uttered it and there was sadness in her eyes as she reported the readings from her board.

"I'm only picking up alien life signs from the surface Nate. They've started to land ground troops, no doubt to mop up any survivors"

"How many our people did we get aboard?"

"Thirty five."

Picard felt a chill at the news. Out of a complement of nearly one hundred and seventy five scientists, technicians, and support personnel, only thirty-five had survived. Next to him he heard Bryson utter a single word, "Damn." Picard looked up at him, thinking perhaps the man was reliving the disaster of the _Chadwick_, but he saw in his eyes something he didn't expect; a desire for vengeance, bloody vengeance.

Commander Tamerin's board uttered a warbling tone. "Nate, we've got a ship vectoring around the planet towards our bow."

"Is it our friends?" Bryson asked as he headed for his command seat.

"Readings don't match the ship that ambushed us, although the designs are similar. It's a smaller vessel, perhaps a carrier for the troops they landed."

"Hail them, maybe they'll be more receptive to talk."

Tamerin made an adjustment to her board. "You're on Nate."

"Unknown vessel. This is Captain Nathaniel Bryson of the starship _Longworth_. You or your comrades have committed an act of aggression against this ship and a legally sanctioned scientific expedition by the United Federation of Planets." Bryson looked over at Picard, and then added, "Lower your shields, stand down and prepare to be boarded."

"Nate, they're charging weapons!" Tamerin called out.

"So much for diplomacy. Raise shields, prepare to return fire."

"The other ship is coming around astern, estimate contact in fifteen minutes." Tamerin reported. Just then the _Longworth _was hit by a barrage of energy pulses that danced over her shields in a brilliant pyrotechnic show that was accompanied by sharp harmonic tones that rang through the hull. "We've got an incoming transmission."

"Now they want to talk," Bryson sighed, "On speakers." The bridge echoed with a chorus of guttural screeches. "That didn't sound friendly," Bryson commented, "Any idea what they're saying?"

"Translator is having trouble finding anything close to a match in its database," Tamerin announced just as another barrage hit, rattling every loose object on the bridge. "Shield power down another twenty percent, but holding. The other ship has accelerated to intercept us." She checked her board, "Those fighters that attacked the camp are headed up to engage as well."

"Let's see if we can give them something else to worry about." Bryson turned to Picard. "Target their engines. If we cripple them, hopefully their comrades will come to their aid and give us time to escape."

"Understood." Picard's fingers danced across the board, which thankfully was similar enough to the one he remembered from the _Stargazer _that he was quickly able to set up a targeting solution.

"Fire as she bears." Bryson said as he sat in his command seat. He punched a stud. "Scotty, we're going to need that short burst you mentioned. Do you think she'll hold up?"

_"Aye, this Bonnie Lass will show them her petticoats and heels right enough," _Scotty replied, the pride showing in his voice, _"And I daresay they'll have a hard time catching up to her, provided she dinna have to run too far."_

"Just as far as the Sorel nebula Scotty, stand by."

"They're coming about for another pass." Tamerin reported.

"I have their engines targeted," Picard said calmly. He watched as the alien vessel entered his crosshairs then touched the phaser fire controls. In answer two beams of blue white energy lanced out and struck the enemy ship on the underbelly, cutting it open like a fish. Large flames erupted from the wound, nourished by escaping internal atmosphere. The ship went into a slow tumble trailing debris, as more explosions radiated out from the initial weapons hit.

"I'm reading cascade failures all over," Tamerin reported as she scanned her board, "Their redundant fail safes must be off line."

"Or they didn't have any." Bryson said quietly. He hit a button. "Transporter room, lock onto any life signs and beam them over."

"There's no time Nate, their core is about to go critical."

Bryson mulled the information, "Gods forgive me." He said softly as he looked at the deck. When he looked back up, his voice was strong. "Helm, get us out of here."

The deck tilted as the _Longworth_ pivoted to her new course and accelerated, the stars outside turning to streaks as she transitioned to warp just as the alien vessel erupted in a fireball of blinding energy. Then just as quickly as she had leapt to warp, she transitioned back to normal space with a crash as telltales on the bridge went red and emergency sirens wailed.

"_Bridge, Scott here." _Scotty was shouting to be heard above all the alarms going off down in engineering. _"We just blew about every plasma conduit and Lord knows what else. Warp is offline and we have only minimal impulse on emergency backups."_

"Nate, the other ship followed us." Tamerin reported from her station. "But they came out of warp too early and are about seventy thousand kilometers behind. I'm picking up scanning sweeps, they're definitely looking for us."

"And none too happy about us blowing their pals out of the sky." Bryson grumbled as he ran his hand over his face. "Get with Scotty and come up with ways to conserve power so we can stay ahead of them long enough to make repairs."

Picard looked at the view screen. On it the Sorel Nebula danced with a kaleidoscope of colors as random energy discharges leapt between the clouds of gaseous matter. "Captain, are you familiar with the Mutara Incident?" he asked.

Bryson turned. "Of course, it was required reading at the Academy." The implication of Picard's question came to him. "Of course! Admiral Kirk took his _Enterprise_ into the nebula to even the odds between him and Kahn. The nebula disrupted sensors so much both ships had to rely on line of sight alone." He turned to the ensign at the helm. "Take us in, best speed."

"Nate, the alien has gotten a fix on us, they're moving this way, also on impulse, but at a slightly higher speed then we can manage." Tamerin reported.

Bryson thought a moment. "Call the flight crews to the hanger decks. Get the Workbees and anything else with a tractor emitter in the air and out in front of us, put us in that fog Buffy."

"But Admiral, surely another ship could be sent," Picard sat in his quarters staring at the face on his communications screen. The _Longworth_ had been in the Sorel Nebula for nearly a full two days as she made repairs to the damage suffered at Uritica III, all hands on the alert for the approach of their unknown enemy which according to the few brief clear sensor sweeps, was prowling on the outskirts of the nebula looking for them.

Admiral Henry "Bull" Tamerin, father of the _Longworth's_ first officer and her sister, looked back at Picard with the steely gaze that had earned him the reputation as a fierce leader_. "There's none in range Jean Luc, and none we can spare. We're still trying to rebuild after the Dominion War remember? Like it or not you're the ranking Starfleet officers on site. The Intelligence boys want all the information you can gather on this new race to determine whether or not they're a threat; somebody looking to take advantage of the chaos left by the war to gain some territory."_

"Understood Admiral, but the _Longworth_ has suffered extensive damage, I doubt she.."

_"Don't count her out Jean Luc, that ship has a reputation as living a charmed life thanks to its actions at Wolf 359 and the Dominion War. We just have to hope that charm holds out a little longer."_

"Sir, I doubt Captain Bryson will take my usurping his command lightly."

_"You're the senior officer Picard, Bryson doesn't have to like it. And if he gets out of line, remind him I gave him that ship, and can just as easily take it away. Tamerin out."_

Picard turned off the view screen and sat back in his chair, wondering how he would have taken it if just as he and the _Stargazer_ had established their reputations, he had been ordered to step aside so a senior officer could take command. It was the nature of life in the fleet, he knew, but it was still unjust in light of what Bryson and his crew had done and achieved, and of what they had gone through to reach this point in their careers. _Bryson's Bastards_ had been an epithet used to describe the young captain and the band of misfit and disgraced officers and crew he had assembled in the wake of the _Chadwick _disaster, all like him seeking the chance to redeem themselves. Bryson had molded this motley bunch into a solid unified unit whose deeds, reputation for beating the odds, and fierce courage had turned the former insult into a badge of honor. Many was the time during the Dominion War when all seemed lost for a Federation starship, then the _Longworth _would arrive in response to a call for aid, and the tide would be turned.

"_We held the line at Wolf 359, in the Dominion they know us well," _Picard recited from the epic poem he'd seen posted in the _Longworth's _cozy forward lounge.

"And the Klingons believe we surely must be demons, sent straight from the fires of hell." Picard turned to see the face of Alice looking back at him from the desktop monitor. She had a look of displeasure in her eyes as she announced, "Captain Bryson is expecting you in his ready room."

It was the longest walk Picard had ever taken in his career as he passed through corridors filled with crew people working at open service panels and junctions. As he passed he could feel their eyes on his back, hear the suppressed whispers. On the bridge the reception was not much better. Commander Tamerin was seated in the center seat, her sister back at weapons, both women glancing his way as the lift doors opened with barely suppressed anger, an emotion it appeared was shared by the rest of the bridge crew. Picard went to the doors leading to Bryson's ready room, pressed the chime for admittance.

Inside he found the younger Captain standing in an alcove before a large portrait of the Alice entity, or rather the actual historical woman she had been modeled on. "So I take it we're not going home just yet," he said as Picard came closer, "The brass wants us to sink, burn, or take as a prize our friends out there."

"Captain, might I remind you of the penalties for eavesdropping on a secured communications channel?" Picard said slowly.

Bryson grinned. "I'll be sure to tell Alice that and see to it she downloads herself into an isoliner chip we can toss in the brig." He stepped away from the alcove and went to his desk. "If I might speak freely Captain, I don't like this; I lost twelve good people during the ambush and battle back at Uritica, add to that the people lost on the surface, and you'd understand my desire to even the score if my ship were in fighting trim. Now I've bent and busted my share of the rules in my time, but I'm not fool enough to butt heads with the top admiral in the fleet." Bryson stiffened to attention. "I stand relieved Sir, the _Longworth _is yours."

"That won't be necessary Captain." Picard said softly, "My orders were to oversee this operation, you'll still retain command of your ship."

"But Sir, according to Alice, the Admiral clearly stated…"

Picard smiled. "Captain Bryson, you're not the only one who's seen fit to interpret fleet orders to suit a particular situation." Bryson relaxed as he continued, "Now what is our current status?"

Bryson touched a control and a holographic 3d representation of the _Longworth_ sprang to being and hovered above the desktop as it rotated slowly. "Most of our structural damage has been repaired, and both the primary and secondary shields are near optimum levels."

"Weapons?" Picard asked.

"Phasers are back to full according to Mister Scott, and we have perhaps half our complement of torpedoes. The main problem is propulsion. We have impulse engines back, but warp is probably going to be a write off until we can reach space dock." Bryson touched the port nacelle of the rotating model. Instantly the model was replaced by an enlarged view of the engine. "The coolant radiator grids were damaged when we got jumped, and failed completely during our warp out. Fortunately the safety protocols were online and shut the system down as soon they detected the engine was overheating, that's why we had such a sudden stop, but we lost all the coolant to space and there isn't enough in reserves to replace it. We could be looking at a very long trip home, providing our friends out there even let us leave." The ship shook slightly as something detonated outside in the swirling gases. "And right now that doesn't look like a possibility. They've been taking random potshots hoping to tag us ever since we came in here. I'm just glad this nebula is scrambling their sensors enough so they can't pinpoint our position."

"I'd like to call a meeting of all your department heads Captain, to discuss what our next actions should be." Picard said as he studied the model.

"Very good sir." Bryson responded. He touched his commbadge. "Commander Tamerin to my ready room please." When the _Longworth_'s first officer appeared, Bryson looked at her. "Buffy, we just got called back to harness, have all the department heads in the conference room in twenty minutes." He thought a moment, "And have the surviving scientists there as well, they're in this as much as we are."

"This is preposterous!" Professor Stoner shouted above the din that erupted in the conference room when Picard and Bryson made the announcement that they were ordered to make contact with the unknown aliens, "Those people tried to murder us all, still are judging by the weapons fire they've been directing into the nebula."

"And why us?" spoke up another man, "This ship is not even an official part of the fleet."

"It is now." Bryson replied as he smoothed down his regulation black and gray uniform. "We've been reactivated by orders of the Admiralty. Captain Picard has been assigned control of this mission."

"No offence Captain Bryson," Stoner said as he stood up, "But the _Longworth_ is after all a rather antiquated vessel, what hope can she have against our adversaries? Perhaps if we waited for the _Enterprise…"_

_ "_Sir, this 'antiquated' vessel helped face down a Borg cube, went toe to toe with three Breen heavy dreadnaughts, smashed a Cardassian.." Bryson leapt to his feet, eyes ablaze with fury over the perceived insult to his ship. Picard extended a calming hand and the younger man sat back down still glaring at Stoner

"The _Enterprise _is undergoing a ship wide systems upgrade at Starbase 47," Picard announced, "And even if she were available, she's still in the Alpha quadrant."

"Like it or not, we're the Federation representatives in this sector, and the brass has ordered us to find out all we can about this race." Bryson added.

"But how?" This was from Marta, Stoner's assistant. "I very much doubt they'll allow us to come close, knock on the hatch and say, "Hello, we're sorry about killing all your friends back at the planet, but you did shoot first, but that being aside, you mind telling us a bit about yourselves?"

"Nonetheless, we have to make the attempt," Picard responded, "We have to determine whether the attack was the result of a misunderstanding, or the prelude to hostilities against the Federation."

"Have we tried communicating with them?" came a voice from the back of the room.

"Several times," Commander Tamerin replied as she consulted her data pad. "Each time stating our peaceful intentions. They either don't care to listen or believe us, or can't understand us." She checked her notes, "We did make a breakthrough however, Alice ran what we had through the database and came up with a correlation to the language of the Zarthoon, a civilization that was wiped out in a cataclysm centuries ago. We're attempting to establish a subspace relay to Memory Alpha to download what they have on the Zarthoon in hopes it might aid us in communicating with our adversaries."

"Have we made any progress in translating the initial transmission?" Picard asked.

"Very little, Outside of some rather off color allusions to our probable ancestry, we managed to pick out one word; _Defilers."_

"Could these creatures be inhabitants of the planet, perhaps descendants of the Uriticans?"

"I doubt it." Bryson replied, "All our scans indicated that the planet had been dead for a century or more with no signs of recent habitation. If they had a base there, they did a hell of a job concealing it."

"Mr. Scott, what information do we have on the enemy ship?" Picard asked.

"Well Sir," Scott responded as he rose from his seat and went to the wall monitor. "From the few clear scans we managed to obtain, we estimate that she's about two, maybe three hundred years old, the main part at least. There are sections, such as the drives and other systems that appear to be of recent manufacture making the vessel more powerful then the original design specs. The best analogy I guess would be to imagine someone taking the _Enterprise NX-01 _of Captain Archer and grafting on the engines and weapons of your own." Scotty activated the monitor. "This is what we think she must have looked like when she was new."

Everyone looked at the image. On the monitor was a gleaming sleek vessel that resembled a dragon of ancient Earth mythology. And like the creature of legend, the ship looked as if it was poised to take flight at any moment, its outspread metal wings holding warp engines at their tips. It was a flying work of engineering art, a symbol of the pride of its builders.

"_Bridge to the Captain." _

"Go ahead." Bryson and Picard said in unison, and then smiled sheepishly.

"_Sirs, we've received a transmission from the enemy vessel, from someone who identifies himself as 'Elder Trieg'. We're still unable to translate most of the message, but Miss Alice was able to make out based on some new data that he wishes to talk to us, to seek a peaceful end to our dispute."_

"What do you think?" Bryson said softly to Picard. "First they try to kill us, now they're talking peace, a trap?"

"If they had wanted to finish us, they could have just as easily come into the nebula after us."

"Unless they couldn't. Perhaps their shielding can't deal with the radiation in here like ours."

"I think we should make the effort Captain. They've made the overture to us, we should hear them out if it will prevent more loss of lives on either side."

"Very well Sir, we'll do it your way, but I wish to go on record in stating that at the first sign of this going sour, I will not hesitate to do all in my power to protect my ship and all the souls aboard her."

"I would expect nothing less of you Captain." Picard smiled.

Bryson smiled in return before he turned to his first Officer. "Buffy, plot us a course that will bring us up astern of them, in that weapons blind spot Alice detected." Bryson looked back to Picard. "No sense getting the laurel of peace shot from our hand before we have a chance to get a word in."

An hour later the _Longworth _was edging upwards from the depths of the nebula towards the rendezvous. On the bridge Captain Bryson sat in his command seat staring at the swirling clouds while around him his crew worked their posts. "Time to contact?" he asked his first officer.

"About five minutes Nate," was the response, "Maybe a bit more, we're registering some gravimetric eddies in our path along with some comet debris we might have to maneuver around."

Bryson nodded then pushed a control on his armrest. "_Attention all hands. This is the Captain. We are now approximately five minutes from contact with the alien vessel. It is our hope that our meeting will be a peaceful one and we can resolve whatever dispute lead to them to attack us back at Uritica III. Remember, although we are on the far side of the galaxy, this ship represents the Federation, and is our home. I know I can count on each and everyone of you to comport yourselves with the honor and duty that goes with the uniform you wear. Bryson out."_ Bryson looked up at Picard. "It might be best if you were to act as our intermediary; you've had more diplomatic experience in these matters."

"Agreed." Picard nodded, remembering the report he had read of how Bryson and his crew had resolved a hostage crisis by inferring they would lay waste to the planet using the ship's weapons unless the ruling warlord released the Federation personnel he had captured.

The _Longworth _broke through the outer layers of the nebula just as the communications officer reported they were being hailed. "On screen." Bryson responded.

"Sorry Sir, it's audio only."

Bryson nodded and gestured to Picard that he was on. Alice materialized into existence at Bryson's side dressed in a long gray skirt and white shirtwaist with leg-o-mutton sleeves accompanied by a series of chirps from the comm. Station. "I've tied a translation subroutine into the channel," She reported, "I haven't been able to totally crack their language based on what we had, but it should gives us something to work from."

"It's better then what we started with." Bryson nodded. He looked over at Picard.

Picard cleared his throat. "Alien vessel, this is Captain Jean Luc Picard representing the United Federation of Planets."

"_Pee-card?" _came a raspy and guttural voice from the speakers. "_I am Trieg, High Elder of the Children of Zarthous."_

"Am I correct in assuming that you represent the race known as the Zarthoon?" Picard responded.

A pleased chuckling. "_You know of us?"_

"Only from legend," Picard replied, his thoughts racing with the implications this discovery meant to anthropological science. "You were thought to be extinct, lost in a great cataclysm that destroyed your home world."

"_Not our home, which is the planet where we found you desecrating the graves of our ancestors."_

"We meant no disrespect. We were scholars, studying the remains of your people and of your cities in an effort to learn more about you."

"_That is well. I too am a." _Trieg was cut off by the loud guttural bellow of someone aboard his ship just before the transmission was cut.

"I'm reading a weapons build up!" Commander Tamerin called out from her station.

"Raise shields," Bryson barked, "Lock phasers and torpedoes and prepare to return fire!" He looked to Picard, "I had hoped we could end this peacefully myself," he said softly, seconds before the alien ship opened up with all it had, shaking the _Longworth _like a toy caught in an animal's mouth. The Federation ship responded in kind, and for countless minutes the two combatants circled one another, with weapons blazing each seeking to inflict a mortal wound on the other. Then suddenly the alien ceased firing.

"Their weapons are off line, and their shields just dropped." Commander Tamerin reported. She checked her readouts. "Not that we're doing much better." She added over the sounds of incoming damage reports. "I think the job is done Nate."

"I'm not falling for another trick." Bryson growled, "This ends now! Hail them, order them to surrender and prepare to be boarded" He turned to the woman seated at weapons. "Lock onto their engines, standby to fire."

"Belay that order Lieutenant!" Picard called out as he gazed at the view screen. On it a battered shuttle exited from the flank of the alien vassal and flew slowly towards the _Longworth._

"Disable that ship and any others who venture our way." Bryson ordered.

"There's just the one and I'm reading only five occupants." Tamerin reported, "Too small to be a boarding party."

"Have them land in bay one." Bryson said edgily, "Get a security detachment down there as well."

Ten minutes later the alien shuttle sat in the center of the landing bay surrounded by a security team holding phaser pulse rifles. A hatch in the side opened with a loud shriek of protesting metal and a series of steps unfolded down to the deck. Then to Picard's surprise, a living descendant to the being whose skull he had held in his hands on Uritica III stepped down followed by four others. Four of the five were bent and wizened with age, and wore ceremonial robes, while the fifth was much younger and was perhaps the Captain of the alien ship, judging from the way he and Bryson stood and glowered at one another.

"Pee-Card?" the lead alien said as he bowed to Picard who returned the gesture. "I am Trieg." He looked with grandfatherly bemusement at the younger member of his party who circled Bryson, the eyes of both holding the challenge for the other to start something. "Now that the hatchlings have demonstrated their virility to each other, perhaps the older and wiser minds among us may seek a more sensible solution to our problem?"

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my time." Bryson said as he sat in his ready room with Picard, the Tamerin sisters and Alice three days later as outside the windows the fleet tender _Sagamore _hovered like a mother hen as Workbees flitted back and forth between it and the _Longworth. _

"And you'll make more Nate," Alice smiled as she tuned her cello.

"Yeah, but nothing like what I almost did," he smiled in return, "Nearly wiping out the last remnants of a race thought lost." He turned to look out the windows, past the ships, to something in the distance. "I was born on a colony in the Chindaras system, never even saw Earth until I went to the Academy. But I remember as a kid how my mom would take me outside on some nights, point to Earth's position and tell me how that little dot of light was the world my ancestors had come from, and that someday she and I would return to it. She never made it, but I did. It must have been the same for these people. They were on the verge of making their first warp space flight when suddenly some normally benign microbes decide to mutate into something nasty. Fingers start getting pointed, and those the germs don't kill get wiped out in a global war. The ship they built as a once grand dream becomes a desperate lifeboat for the survivors who flee to the stars. They find a new world, rebuild their society, but fate deals them another cruel hand when that planet is destroyed as well. But through it all there is always that little light in the sky they can point to and tell their children, _you see that? That's where we came from, and someday maybe you will return there." _ Bryson looked back at the stars, "Then when they do return, they find a bunch of strangers digging up the bones of their revered ancestors; is it any wonder why they wanted to kill us?" He looked down, "And I them after they succeeded to a limited extent?"

"But you didn't Captain," Picard responded, "You didn't feel anything different then what many other's, myself included have felt in similar situations. But what is important is that you were able to see past your anger and desire for vengeance and make way for a peaceful end to all this."

"I wish my counterpart felt the same way," Bryson smiled as he ruefully rubbed his chin. "It took five people with phaser rifles on heavy stun to bring him down after he decided to try and jump me in the forward lounge. Scotty and his crew are going to have their hands full fixing all the doors and panels he ripped out trying to get to me until Alice managed to lure him into the cargo bay."

"That aside" Picard smiled. "We made the first steps to peace, and I've already contacted the Federation about aiding the Zarthoon in rebuilding their world, they seem eager about meeting with Trieg and the other Elders."

"Uritica III is on the way back, we can stop off there for a few days, do some scans for the terraforming boys to work from and let Trieg and his people get reacquainted with their home world and discuss what priorities there are in the planet's rebirth"

"Professor Stoner would like that," Alice commented, "He's been eager to find and study that avian he spoke of."

The intercom chimed. "_Captain, we've received a priority subspace packet from fleet."_ Came the voice of the Ensign on duty at communications. "_New orders for Captain Picard and us."_

"Subject to the requirements of the service." Bryson sighed as he accessed the packet. "As soon as we're repaired, we're to report to Starbase 77 for picket duty."

"And the _Enterprise_ has been ordered to mediate a dispute in the Faranar system." Picard grunted, as he read his orders on the separate terminal Bryson routed them to. "So much for Professor Stoner and his bird."

"Well, as I understand, the damn things flightless, so I doubt it will be going anywhere." Bryson quipped. Alice smiled, and then began plucking at her cello's strings. It was tune both men knew, a tune born of an earlier time, a tune about men of boldness and adventure like themselves. Slapping the table in time, Bryson and Picard both began to sing:

"_Come cheer up my lads, tis to glory we steer. With hearts that are true we shall banish all fear…"_

18


End file.
